


Mistletoe

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-02
Updated: 2005-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-12 08:32:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7094446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wesley/Angel slash at Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

Note: Not much of a plot, more like a scene I had to exorcise from my head.  
Mucho thanks to HRH Kassie for the beta!! 

Improv: Moist, escape, pure, fist, grace

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It had been a pretty good party, Wesley mused as he washed the last of the dishes. Gunn and Angel armwrestling (Angel careful to let Gunn win at least half the time), Cordy flirting with her latest beau, showing off the doctor-boyfriend like the latest fashion accessory. David Nabbit had dropped by for a while, though when asked to dance by a pretty young thing, he had beat a hasty retreat with a stammer and a blush. Angel had even laughed once or twice, the unusual sound catching Wesley's ear no matter what else the distraction. Yes, a successful party on the whole... except for that damn mistletoe. 

Wesley hated that mistletoe. Dangling in the office doorway, spun by each passing breeze, so festive with its green leaves and white berries and red sparkly ribbon. It mocked him with that ribbon, he was sure of it. 

Each time one of Gunn's crew had pulled a giggling girl under it and claimed the traditional kiss, Wesley had looked away, unwilling to clap and laugh with the others. There was always some chore to be done, some snack bowl that needed re-filling, drinks to be poured, popcorn to pop. He welcomed these tasks, using the pretense to slip off to the kitchen for a while. He knew sooner or later someone would ask where Virginia was, why she hadn't come to the Angel Investigations party. He wanted to avoid that topic, to escape having to explain why they'd broken up. 

Or perhaps they wouldn't have asked, and perhaps that was what he was avoiding. In his heart, Wesley suspected that no one there really paid enough attention to him or his dates (or lack thereof) to notice that he was alone. But just in case, he stayed busy, playing host for the other partygoers. 

And now it was over. Everyone gone home, or out to another party, or off to visit family. Cordelia and her boyfriend off for a night of dancing, Gunn went for one more night patrol, and Angel had gone up to bed. And Wesley was alone. Alone with his thoughts and the dirty dishes and that cursed mistletoe hanging there in the doorway. Mocking him. 

He finished at last, rinsing out the punchbowl with care for it's gilded trim. He put away the last of the uneaten food, nibbling on some of the leftover crabpuffs, and wiped all the counters down with his usual neatness. Walking around the lobby of the Hyperion, he turned off or unplugged the strings of lights, till at last he was back in the office. The hotel lay in darkness, save for the desk lamp and the streetlight coming through the frosted front doors. Wesley reached to flick off the desk lamp, when that mistletoe caught his eye. Some errant breeze had set it spinning again, that ribbon sparkling (laughing) at him. 

With a curse, he dragged a chair over to the doorway, climbed up, and yanked the offending plant down. Wesley threw it towards the trashcan petulantly, and swore again when he missed. Clambering down from the chair, he went and picked it up, and stared at the damn thing for a moment, almost able to hear it's mocking giggle. In his heart he knew he was being silly, that the plant had no ulterior motives (or conciousness for that matter). That did not stop him from tossing it into the trash and then stepping on it for good measure. "There," he muttered, "that'll show you..." 

"Talking to the decorations, Wes?" the smooth voice came from the darkness, and Wesley jumped and *squeaked* a little in surprise. "Now what could that plant have done to piss you off?" Angel mused, appearing from the darkness of the lobby, moving with his habitual silence and pure grace. 

Wesley blushed a little, feeling quite silly, and backed away automatically as Angel came forward. He wasn't afraid of his employer, not in the least he told himself, just wanted not to... crowd him, yes that was it. Must keep that personal bubble up, to use Cordelia's colorful phrase. 

Angel bent down and rescued the bit of greenery, somewhat the worse for wear. He dangled it by the red ribbon, swinging it before Wesley as if he was going to hypnotise him with it. Eyes alight with a rare mischief, he asked softly, "Was it possessed? Perhaps under an evil druid's spell?" 

Wesley bit his lip, flushing under the teasing glance. "No." he said shortly, "I was just taking down the decorations, that's all." 

Angel wordlessly looked around at all the garlands, banners, and wreaths hung about the place, and then back at Wesley. "Uh-huh." he said, archly. "So are you going to stomp all of them as well?" 

"Oh, give me that!" Wesley snapped, having had enough, and he made a grab for the mistletoe. Angel slipped away from him, vampiric speed and strength making it child's play to keep the plant out of the other man's reach. Wesley chased Angel around the office, growing more and more frustrated at the game, though Angel appeared to be enjoying himself immensely. 

Wesley finally cornered Angel, his back up against the far wall of the office. But his boss still smirked, waving that bit of greenery on its ribbon, dangling *just* out of his reach. Wesley was going to jump for it, then realized his dignity had taken enough lumps for one night. Instead he just took one step towards the vampire, got right in his face, and said quietly, "Angel, please." 

"What, you want this?" Angel cast an innocent glance up at the mistletoe, and Wesley's eyes followed. 

"Yes." he replied, curtly. 

They looked down at the same moment, brown eyes meeting blue eyes. 

And everything changed. 

Wesley became aware of a great many things all at once. Aware of his pulse speeding up, of the hitch in his breath, of the dryness of his mouth, of a bolt of moist warmth going straight though his body to his groin. He could see Angel's nose twitch, his eyes grow darker and more intent, and Wesley realised Angel was *smelling* him. 

He took a step back. 

Angel took one step forward, right back into Wesley's personal bubble, and asked again: "Do you want this?" 

Oh intonation is *everything*, and Wesley knew he wasn't asking about the mistletoe anymore. But he didn't know what to say. Didn't know *what* he wanted. He took another step back. 

Angel followed, and they continued thus, backing slowly across the room till their positions were reversed. Wesley had his back up against the wall, Angel looming over him, still clutching the bedraggled greenery overhead in his fist. 

Angel leaned even closer, till all Wesley could see was the bottomless darkness of his eyes boring into his. "Do you want this?" he asked for a third time, softly, gently. 

Wesley shut his eyes at last, and sighed. Something inside him seemed to bend, break, shatter silently into a million shards, and he said faintly, "Yes." 

Angel dropped the mistletoe and cradled his face gently in both hands. One kiss, one sweet cool touch of Angel's lips, and Wesley's knees almost buckled. To keep from falling, he put out his hands and found the strong bulwark of Angel's shoulders. Another kiss, Angel teased his lips with his tongue, and with a faint moan, Wesley surrendered utterly. Mouth open to Angel's expert plundering, he could only cling to the vampire as his legs turned to rubber and his cock turned to stone. 

Wesley lost all track of time and space, it could have been moments or years when Angel finally released him. He sagged against the wall, then slid down to sit in a boneless heap on the floor. By the time he looked up, Angel was on the way out. "Merry Christmas, Wesley," he tossed over his shoulder as he went out the door. 

Wesley was almost ready to kill him for walking off like that, then Angel stuck his head back in and added, "It's awfully late to walk home. Are you sure you wouldn't rather stay here tonight?" he asked with perfect innocence. 

"Oh god, yes," Wesley's dash for the door set land-speed records.


	2. Sooner or Later

Angel led him across the lobby of the Hyperion. Even through the darkened hall, full of ottomans and lamp cords and assorted stacks of demonic tomes, Wesley didn't stumble; perhaps some of the vampire's unerring grace was being transmitted through the cool hand holding his. He didn't stumble in body at any rate. His willingness took a tumble or two. 

He was being led to the slaughter, his rational, sensible, vampire- fearing mind kept telling him. No, his body replied, only to a sea- change, a rebirth, to something I have wanted without name forever. They were fighting it out, Wesley as the battleground and prize. Angel was not only playing for the body's side, he was willing to cheat. 

At the foot of the stairs, his fears won out, and Wesley stopped, unable to begin that climb. Angel seemed to sense this and did not pull him further. He released Wesley's hand and stepped around behind him, placing strong hands on his shoulders. He did not push him, as was half expected, instead he folded down Wesley's collar and placed a single kiss on the back of his neck. The sensation of cool lips and warm tongue sent shivers pouring down his spine, rationality took a nosedive, and Wesley began to climb the stairs. Angel followed, ghostly silent. 

In the upstairs hall leading to the rooms, Wesley hesitated again, and Angel came up close beside him. Wesley braced himself for another touch on the neck, but instead the vampire took his right hand in both of his. He lifted it slowly to his lips, and delicately kissed each fingertip. Then, as Wesley gazed wide-eyed, Angel drew his index finger into his mouth. 

"Ohhh," Wesley couldn't hold back the gasp, as his fingertip was gently nibbled and licked. All intelligent thought was wiped away by the flood of sensation coursing down his arm and straight to his groin. When Angel released the single digit, he took both the warm human hands in his pale ones. Wesley followed as best he could on shaking knees. 

Angel led him down to his room, pausing outside for a moment to push Wesley up against the wall by the door. He leaned in, covering the slender man's body with his, and kissed him long and deeply. Wesley made no protest, just opened his mouth, slid his hands round Angel's neck to tangle long fingers in the vampire's hair. 

When Wesley was panting and harder than ever, Angel stepped inside his darkened bedroom, turned to face his companion. Wesley could only see a gleam of light caught in Angel's eyes, the sheen on his silk shirt, but his voice was clear and deep as he spoke. 

"Wes. Please. Come in." 

//This was it//, Wesley thought, sanity making a last desperate bid for supremacy. //I can't go in there... oh god... how can I *not* go in there//. His breathing still quick and agitated, he leaned against the wall where Angel had left him and closed his eyes. 

"Wh-- what are we doing?" Wesley's voice was rough and agonised. 

Angel stepped forward, leaned against the doorjamb. Though he didn't smile, his voice was rich with gentle humor as he replied, "Well, if you like, I *could* draw you a diagram..." 

Wesley just glared at him, unwilling to see the humor. 

"Or perhaps a diorama would be useful, I know I could find some dolls around here somewhere..." 

This drew a reluctant snicker from Wesley, and he pulled himself together again. "No." he said firmly, refusing to be sidetracked by the image of a little Angel doll lying on top of a little Wesley doll..... well mostly refusing. 

"No, I mean you and me. What are we doing? This just came out of nowhere, it's *crazy*." Wesley shook his head, the rational part of him gaining the upperhand. "This is madness. I--" he shook himself slightly and turned to Angel, determination written in his posture. "This is a mistake. I'm going home." 

He was turning to leave, firmly ignoring the whimper of loneliness in his soul, when Angel's voice floated out of the dark room again. 

"This isn't out of nowhere. It was only a matter of time, Wesley." He didn't plan to stop, but Angel's voice slipped over him -- silken ribbons of sound -- and he stood still, ensnared. 

"No one else knows you like I do, Wes. No one has seen more of you than I have. Your courage, your cowardice, your loves and hates and needs. The way you oversalt your scrambled eggs. The reverent delight in your eyes whenever you spy a bookstore. The way you smell after having sex with some bleached blonde you hardly knew." 

Wesley just stood there, heart beating faster, palms growing sweaty, frightened and trembling and enthralled. 

"The hatred you once carried for your father, now buried so very, very deeply. How you miss England and it's terrible food and eternally damp air. Your perfect aim with darts." Angel's voice was calm and smooth, like a very old, deep river. Peaceful on the surface, yet the deep currents could wash away mountains. "How your shoulder still aches from when Faith dislocated it. Your nightmares of being locked under the stairs. I know all this, and so much more. I understand you, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. And I know you want me as much as I want you." 

Finally he moved, sliding up behind Wesley with inhuman grace. Very slowly, he placed his hands on Wesley's shoulders and pulled him close. Close against Angel's body, and held him with delicate care, with inescapable strength. 

"And, sooner or later, I'll know how the sweat on the small of your back tastes." Angel murmured in Wesley's ear, "How you sound when you're moaning my name. If you'll pant when I enter you, or if you'll whimper, or if you'll just bite your lip and come right then." 

Angel's breath was cool, his tongue only slightly warmer when he traced the curve the trembling man's ear. Wesley shuddered, leaned his head back on Angel's shoulder, melted into his embrace. When Angel placed one light kiss on his jugular, Wesley's good sense gave up once and for all. 

"It's only a matter of time, Wes," Angel went on, "and I for one would rather we began tonight." And now when he pulled his human companion towards the bedroom door there was no pause, no hesitation. Wesley went eagerly, hunger in his eyes, and he drew Angel's mouth to his as the door shut behind them.


	3. Fait Accompli

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my first smut-fic... be gentle with me? Or don't... that can be fun too. *eg* Bushels and heaps of thanks to Lar and Kassie for the beta-ing! Any remaining blunders are all my own.

Notes: It's my first smut-fic... be gentle with me? Or don't... that can be fun too. *eg* Bushels and heaps of thanks to Lar and Kassie for the beta-ing! Any remaining blunders are all my own.

Improv Words: Flow, Blue, Rave, Fall 

~~~~~ 

Darkness. No friendly gleam of candle, no sharp edged glow of electricity, not even the cool blue radiance of moonlight, only warm enfolding darkness. If shadows could comfort entice smother all at once, that was the inside of Angel's room. 

Wesley didn't mind, not at all. For really, sight seemed so pointless now, quite unnecessary and a strain on his already taxed resources. So much of his mind was occupied with scent (delicate hints of arousal, fear, incense) and sound (his own nervous panting breaths, unaccompanied by any other) and taste (spicy aftertaste of Angelic kisses) and touch. Most of all touch. 

He could write a book on touch alone at the moment, deft hands pulling him, tugging him close to a strong cool body, holding him still for long sweet kisses. Those same hands pulling off his clothing with rough efficiency, then a *push* and he was falling backwards, falling, but not so far, only to the bed, and again there was touch, the feel of silken sheets and warm woolen blankets underneath him. And it only served to emphasize how naked the rest of him felt. He was aware of every inch of bare skin, from his toes to the flush on his cheeks. And everything in-between. Everything. 

Though blind, still he knew Angel was looking at him. Not possible, but true all the same, he could *feel* each trail that those eyes are leaving, blazing across his body, marking paths for the fingers and mouth and cock soon to follow. 

Even though Angel's touch was expected, wanted, awaited, he could not help a little jump of surprise when cool hands closed over his ankles. He didn't resist as he was pulled slowly down the bed, ankles over the edge, then knees, and those cool, cool hands slid up his calves, tenderly stroked the backs of his knees, and rested at last on his thighs. 

Rested for only a moment, then pushed, softly, irresistibly pushed his thighs apart, wider and wider till he was spread, almost to the straining point. Wesley gasped, feeling so helpless, so exposed. He was rock hard, shivering with need, and still the only skin touching his was where those hands, holding his legs, were keeping him open and ready. 

It seemed to last forever, but couldn't have been more than moments before Angel finally leaned in, slid one hand around Wesley's cock, took the tip in his mouth, and... and ... *ohmygod*... and sucked. Wesley threw his head back and moaned, hands fisting in the sheets, toes actually curling, as Angel took him deeper and deeper. 

Three deep strokes, three deep thrusts into that wet mouth, and he was about to come, he was so close... and *ohshit* Angel stopped. Pulled his talented mouth away leaving Wesley shivering with unfulfilled need. 

Before Wesley could protest, in complete sentences at any rate, there was nothing to complain about, for Angel was there, flowing over him, strong hand at the small of his back, the other gently caressing his cheek, his hair, his neck. Wesley reached for him gladly, wrapped his arms round him, nuzzled his neck and the tender skin behind his ear in a mirror action of what Angel was doing to him. Then kisses, long slow deep kisses till Wesley was panting, and Angel was almost growling, a primal thrumming sound. 

Angel's hand slid down, stroked his ass and went further, one finger finding that secret entrance and delicately traced the puckered opening as Wesley bit his lip and groaned. 

"Are you ready?" Angel asked, mouth at Wesley's ear, proceeded to nibble his earlobe, as if to pass the time till Wesley answered. Still that finger teased and darted round, almost but not quite going in. 

"Yes...." Wesley answered without hesitation. "Oh! Oh *God* yes, that's so good..." he raved as Angel slipped inside, that long finger probing and stroking him. Angel covered his mouth with his, drowning him with wet kisses, engulfing Wesley's sharp noises of pleasure and surprise as another finger followed... then another. 

Wesley could only squirm and wince and shudder as Angel twisted and curved the fingers buried deep within him. He whimpered a little as they found his prostate, as his body was rocked by short sharp jabs of blinding pleasure. Angel swallowed all his cries, licking and nibbling Wesley's mouth in rhythm, in perfect synergy to the motion of his hand. 

Again Wesley could feel his pleasure rising, the orgasm building swiftly, and it was almost there, the wave almost breaking, when Angel carefully pulled his fingers out. Wesley could not help a slight moan of protest, feeling empty, bereft as never before. 

Angel kissed him once more, softly shushing him, then raised himself up, urged Wesley to turn over. Eagerly he did so, raising his hips in the air. Only a moment, no more, till Angel was touching him, till there were hands on his hips, slippery wetness to prepare the way, pressure, inexorable and unending till Angel was buried deep within him. 

It was too much, an overload of his senses, and Wesley almost blacked out. Flashes of exquisite pleasure like lightning through a night sky, and they came faster and faster as Angel drove into him, fucked him. Waves of pleasure rose again, and again, and crested, and smashed him down, and Wesley cried out as he came hard. Seconds later Angel followed, one last deep stroke and he spasmed, clutched Wesley's hips hard enough to almost dent them, flooded him with cool wetness, and collapsed. 

Wesley grumbled at the avalanche of heavy vampire, and squirmed out from underneath. As one they moved to one side to escape the mess. Angel spooned Wesley close, nuzzling the back of his neck. 

"See?" Angel said sleepily, teasingly. "It was only a matter of time." 

"Mmmm," Wesley replied, pulling the blankets up to his chin. "Remind me to apologize to that mistletoe in the morning." 

And they slept.


End file.
